These Scars Remind Us
by LionsMakeYouBrave
Summary: I never knew her name, but I wanted to. The only thing that I knew her by was "3rd Row, 7th Seat from the Left" in my Psychology class. I also know that she saved my life… but besides that, the rest of her was a mystery to me... Is she alive or dead? Does she still have that raven black hair, gorgeous mocha colored eyes, and perfectly caramelized skin? Where is she?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** These Scars Remind Us  
**Trigger Warnings:** School shootings, depression, suicide, PTSD, self harm.  
**Rating:** M  
**A/N: **Okay, so I wanted to write this. I keep have this recurring dream about this... so I just decided to write it in the form of Glee. Have fun, beware of the trigger warnings. Enjoy, lovelies.  
**A/N #2: **Mostly AU and OOC. There are some similarities, but mostly, no.

* * *

_I never knew her name, but I wanted to. The only thing that I knew her by was "3rd Row, 7th Seat from the Left" in my Psychology class. I also know that she saved my life… but besides that and a little scar next to her eyebrow, the rest of her was a mystery to me._

_From what I could tell, she was quite reserved and kept to herself. I wanted to know who she was, why she was so quiet. She intrigued me. I could tell by her rigid exterior that her life hadn't always been sunshine and rainbows._

_The one and only thing I knew about this girl was that she cared enough to save my life. We had never said a word to each other, only exchanged glances across the classroom, but… she saved me._

_It was February 19, 2009. The air was crisp and cold, so cold you could even see your breath lingering. We were sitting in our usual Psychology class when one of our classmates walked in. He strutted towards the front of the room, his trench coat dangling just above the ground, his head was facing down as he began to speak._

_"You know, we all fight battles inside. Our inner demons. I think that was the only thing I learned from this damned class. My inner battle… my thirst for suffering and pain. I don't want to fight anymore. I hope that one day, I can be forgiven for this. Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself?"_

_Before we knew it, he had pulled two guns hidden away in his coat, firing into the crowd. Screams sounded as shots rung through the classroom. _

_The last thing I remember from that day was "3rd Row, 7th Seat from the Left" pushed me out of the way of a line of bullets that would have hit me point blank in the chest had I not moved. Instead, one hit me in the leg, and the other grazed my ribcage. We landed on the ground with a loud thud. Over 10 shots were shot in my direction, only two hit me. I always wondered if the girl got hit and how many hit her if she got hit at all. All I saw was red before passing out._

_I woke up in the hospital hours later. My leg was wrapped in blood-stained gauze and my so was my side. I remember feeling a sharp pain in my forehead. I found out that I had sutures in my forehead, probably from the impact of hitting the hard ground._

_I continually asked for the girl who saved me, but since I had no idea what her name was, the doctors had no idea who I was talking about. _

_I never saw "3rd Row" again. It's been two years since the incident…_

_I wonder how she is, my savior. Is she alive or dead? Does she still have that raven black hair, gorgeous mocha colored eyes, and perfectly caramelized skin?_

_Where is she?_

I sighed as I finished the entry in my notebook, re-reading it before shutting the cover. If you had asked me two years ago if I had ever imagined myself to be here, I would tell you no.

I wouldn't expect myself to live in San Francisco 3,335 miles away from my home in Maine with my best friend (who just so happened to be a therapist/psychologist), her daughter, and her girlfriend.

I never expected myself to have to take a pill everyday just to deal with life or even leave the house.

I never expected I would be here, wondering why I got to live and so many had to die.

I never expected to be suicidal or depressed.

Before any of this happened, I was just Brittany S. Pierce. Sheltered from every bad thing in the world.

But now that the damage was done, I have to keep my head above water.

Quinn told me the only way I could try to get past this was to write about it. Every time I had a night terror or a bad thought, I had re-write the memory of the shooting. She said it would give me closure. She was kind of right, I mean, I was better than I was before.

I pushed myself up from my desk chair and exited my bedroom. I made my way upstairs to find Quinn sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.

"Morning, Brittany." She said before looking over the top of the newspaper. "Sleep well?"

I shook my head, "No… the dream, it… it came back." I said almost in a whimper.

"Did you write it down?" She asked persistently. I just nodded. "Good. Your medicine is on the counter. We're going to the Golden Gate Bridge, today. Would you care to join us?"

I simply nodded as I walked towards the kitchen counter, grabbing a cup of water. I hated that I had to be babied, but without Quinn, I would probably be dead by this point. I placed the assortment of pills into my mouth and took a huge gulp of water to wash them down.

I stood at the counter a while longer to read the labels of each pill bottle. Each were perfectly labeled with "Pierce, Brittany Susan" and the instructions for dosage. I carefully re-read each name on the bottles, trying to remember what each was for.

_Clonazepam… _Generic name Klonopin… for my anxiety.  
_Paroxetine _… Generic name Paxil… for my depression and PTSD.  
_Trazodone... _for an increase in seretonin, also used for my insomnia.

And if things get **really **bad, I have Quetiapine (Seroquil) to help sedate me and stabilize any psychosis problem occurring.

At one point, I was one more than that, but Quinn cut back after realizing it was better having a best friend than a zombie walking around the house.

I sat down at the kitchen table next to Quinn as she continued to read the newspaper. "I know that we don't get you out much, and since Melanie has never been to the Golden Gate Bridge, I figured it was time to show her."

I just nodded. We didn't always live in San Francisco… in fact, we just moved here. I had yet to visit the Golden Gate Bridge myself, except for the one time when we drove over it. But I knew today we were walking across it.

I mentally prepared myself for our near adventure to the bridge. It wasn't often I even got out of the house, and now we're going to a heavily populated bridge full of tourists and loud noises… great.

* * *

The drive to the bridge was not fun for me. The entire drive there was full of nostalgic feelings from the previous dream I had about the shooting. Plus, the drugs were hardly kicking in, I just felt super nauseous. But Quinn was only trying to help get me out of the house, so I agreed.

Why did I have to agree?

As we drove over the bridge, thoughts of my body crashing into the ocean waves below started to plague my mind. I sighed loudly, and it hardly went unnoticed by Quinn. She reached across the seat and patted me on my thigh, careful not to pat too hard from where I had gotten all of my surgery from the bullet. She had that look in her eyes that said "It's okay" as the car made it to the other side of the bridge. She parallel parked the car and threw some change in the meter as I helped get Melanie out of the car.

"Okay, Melanie. Stay with your mommy, okay? Don't be scared if I lose you guys, I can't walk as fast as your or your mom." I explained to Melanie before limping over towards Quinn. "She's all set."

"Thanks B. Did you need your cane or anything?" Quinn asked before closing her car doors. I shook my head. After a year of physical therapy to strengthen my leg, I almost refused to use the cane. Quinn kept it handy, though, just in case.

"No, I'll just walk slower, it's okay." I smiled in her direction. Quinn simply nodded before heading towards the bridge with Mel's hand in hers. I followed suit, slowly, of course.

I started feeling that gut instinct that I had while driving over the bridge. I had never walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, nor had I ever really walked anywhere in San Francisco. I gulped loudly as I passed a sign at the entrance of the bridge walk that stated: **CRISIS COUNSELING. THERE IS HOPE, MAKE THE CALL. THE CONSEQUENCES OF JUMPING FROM THIS BRIDGE ARE FATAL AND TRAGIC.**

Fatal and Tragic. Those two words stuck out to me like sore thumbs. I slowly made my way onto the bridge, keeping my eyes on Melanie and Quinn. The whole time, I felt like if I just threw myself over the edge quickly, no one would really notice.

I hated feeling this way, like I couldn't even live normally, but I couldn't. I heard the waves crashing below and all I could think about was "that should be my home for the rest of my miserable life".

I continued walking across the bridge, sloth-like almost. I watched as Melanie saw a bird sitting on the bridge, letting go of Quinn's hand. "Mommy, mommy! Let's go look at the birdie." I heard her cry out as she ran away from Quinn.

"Mel, wait up!" Quinn screamed before running after her daughter.

This was my chance. Quinn was gone and no one was around to stop me. I turned to my right to look out into the ocean. _Just jump, Brittany. Just jump…_I thought as I continued to stare down at the waves. I stood on the fence that bordered the outside of the bridge, the one little barrier keeping me from falling. I pushed my weight onto my hands as I stood on my tip-toes, ready to just throw myself over the edge.

"Shit… this is really high up." I muttered out loud.

"Yeah, it is really high up." A voice called from behind me. Startled, I lost my footing, my stomach hitting the top part of the fence. _Shit, I was really about to fall off the Golden Gate Bridge._

* * *

**_I have most of the next chapter written, but I wanted to see how this did. I want to know if you want me to continue? This is just like an introduction. It's super interesting from here, I promise._**


	2. Chapter 2

If you want me to be honest; I totally lost half of the dream after posting the first chapter. So I've left it sitting in My Documents for the 5 months wondering what to do with it.

I think I got it, but I'm not too sure.

**letsbefrankimawkward: No, I actually explained in this one that Quinn wasn't Brittany's therapist. She just always acts like one around Brittany; you know making sure she takes her meds and all. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It can only get better because Brittana is endgame; as always. **

**Guest: I hope you read this! I am continuing!  
**

**Love-Brittana: I hope it's interesting. I haven't thought it out _that _ far but I will get there :)  
**

**ThatKid: I didn't give up on it!  
**

**BrittanaLover: I'm so evil with the cliffhangers. My sister and I always leave you guys hanging off the edge of the cliff. And then we leave you there for five months and make you wonder if we're coming to save you or not. SORRY!  
**

* * *

"Whoa there." The voice from behind me exclaimed as I felt a strong pair of arms wrap around my waist. The person pulled me away from the edge and my back crashed into their front as we stumbled backwards.

I felt their grip tighten as they tried to regain their balance, but it was already too late. My leg gave in and I collapsed to the ground, bringing them with me.

We landed on the ground with an "oof" sound exiting the girl's voice. I apologized as I pushed myself up off the stranger, turning my attention towards the girl who just stopped me from falling over the edge of a fucking bridge.

_No... it can't be._ I looked closely at the girl… that raven hair, those mocha colored eyes, that caramelized tan skin… It couldn't be.

"Were you going to jump off the bridge?" The girl demanded, her voice sporting a harsh tone. I felt tears producing in my eyes. I started sobbing as I nodded 'yes'.

"Why would you do that?" The girl's voice softened.

"I… I…" I tried to speak in between sobs, but nothing was coming out.

"Shh… I'm sorry, it's okay… I didn't mean to yell… it's just… Do you have any family? Are you alone?" She frantically asked, standing up and holding her hand out for to grab. I refused.

"Brittany!?" I heard Quinn's voice ring out as I saw a blur of blonde come running towards us. _Oh great._

"Britty!" Melanie screamed, "Britty, we losted you and I was scared." Melanie threw her arms around me as she lowered herself towards the ground. I sat, motionless, on the ground with Quinn's six year old daughter wrapped around me.

"Brittany, what happened?" Quinn's voice had a touch of worry in it, and a touch of sternness; as if to ask why the hell I was probably crying.

"I… I…" I tucked my face into my forearms as I continued crying.

"She was looking at the waves." The girl started. I looked at her with wide eyes, hoping she didn't say anything that would make Quinn give me 'the talk' at home, "I'm assuming she's never walked across the bridge before today. My guess is that she was people watching and was taken aback by the height of the bridge. I heard her say she was really high up or something, and I responded. It startled her and she lost her footing and almost fell over the railing."

I let out a sigh of relief as Quinn looked to me. "Well, Brittany does have a bad leg, so I don't doubt she's clumsy on it." Quinn chuckled, "But thank you, for that. I'm Quinn Fabray." Quinn held her hand out to help the girl off of the ground.

"Santana… Santana Lopez." She replied.

"Well, Santana. How can we pay you back for saving Britt's life?" Quinn questioned.

"You don't have to?" She replied, confused.

"No! Nonsense. How about a drink, tonight?" Quinn pressed, "Completely on me."

"Okay." She said nervously, "Yeah, sure. I'd like that."

"Here's my number," Quinn said, circling her phone number on the business card she pulled out of her purse. "Shoot me your address or a bar you absolutely adore and we'll either come get you or meet you there."

Santana just nodded, "Thank you."

"NO, no. THANK YOU." Quinn said. _God, I feel like I'm being babied again_.

As Santana turned to walk away, I grabbed her wrist to say something. She turned and faced me and that's when I saw it. That scar above her eyebrow, the one I saw when she pushed me out of the way of the bullets.

I leaned forward to her ear, "I… thank you for not telling her," I whispered before pulling away, seeing a smile form on her face.

"Don't mention it, but you so owe me." She joked before walking away.

"What was _THAT _about?" Quinn asked while cocking her eyebrow.

"I was just thanking her for being strong enough to keep me from falling." I lied.

**XXXXXXXX**

After the extremely quiet and awkward drive home, I found myself in my bedroom, lying on the floor and thinking. So much time had passed, and still this girl looked exactly the same. She was still as gorgeous as ever and still had those extremely plump lips. I had to pinch myself about ten times after I got home just to make sure this wasn't a dream. How could it be that this girl… moved all the way from MAINE to California? How? Was this just coincidence or was this fate? Was it just a stroke of luck or was it some cruel trick life was playing on me?

I was trying to fathom how all of this was possible until I heard someone descending the stairs. There were a few knocks on my door before Quinn walked in.

"Hey… are you okay, Brittany?" Quinn quietly asked, looking down at me on the ground.

"It was her." I plainly replied.

"Who was who?" Quinn's eyes look around my room before finding place with mine.

"The girl, Santana… She was the one who saved me two years ago." I sigh as I sat up.

"B, be rational." Quinn takes her lower lip between her teeth and lightly bites down, pinching the bridge of her nose before letting out a giant sigh. I know she was sick of me talking constantly about wanting to find this girl and how I would one day; but I swear, it was her and I did find her.

"I am, Quinn! I know you are just trying to help because you're a therapist and all; but I chose to go see someone else about that because of our friendship and you're treating me like a patient more than ever. And I know you think I'm insane... But I know it was her! She looked TOO much alike her. She even had the scar above her eyebrow. It's not a coincidence and for one, I'm not crazy about this! I KNOW IT'S HER." I threw my arms up in the air and let out a huff as Quinn walked towards me.

"Okay, okay. I can't stop you from thinking that way, so just… try not to mention it when we go out tonight. Maybe she'll remember you." Quinn words sounded empty as she knelt down to pat my shoulder. "It's almost time to go pick Santana up."

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Quinn?" I asked while I sat up.

"She saved you from falling off of the bridge." Quinn replied quickly.

_"But I wanted to fall off of the bridge_." I wanted to say. "I know, I know. I should be thankful that a stranger who looks like the girl who saved me in Maine saved my life yet again. Blah, blah, blah."

"Brittany, attitude. Please tell me you took ALL of your medicine this morning." Quinn pressed.

"I did, don't worry. Just stressed." I muttered.

"Then you need alcohol."

"And this is why you are NOT my therapist," I joked before getting up and following her upstairs.

**XXXXXXXX**

Quinn was right. All I needed was a shit ton of alcohol and voila, I instantly felt better. Currently, Santana was sitting next to me and Quinn was across the small table at the bar/club we had wound up at.

"So, I had Melanie when I first started college. I can't say that keeping her so young was a bad idea, but I guess trying to prove your sexuality with a guy unprotected was. Anyway, after I had her I found a girl who I really liked and we started dating. My mom would take care of her during the day and my girlfriend and I would be home between and after classes to take care of her. She legally can't adopt Melanie, but Melanie only knows her as Mommy or Mom #2." Quinn continued talking and I watched as Santana leaned forward, her chin rested on her hand. "It was like that through all 6 years I was in college, but I love her so I wouldn't change it for the world."

Santana must have asked about Melanie, seeing as she clung to me after I fell.

"So how did you and Brittany meet?" Santana asked, sipping on her drink.

"High school." Quinn and I both replied at the same time.

"We parted ways when we went to college, though." I threw in. I don't know why, maybe she'd ask what college I went to and then remember who the fuck I was.

"Oh sweet," She played with the red straw in her drink, "Now, Quinn said she studied at Yale. So where did you study?"

"Umaine," I replied before taking a giant sip of my drink. I winced a bit as the alcohol made its way down my throat.

"I heard that's a wonderful school." _Seriously how does she not remember?_

"Yeah, it was. How about you?" I downed the rest of my drink.

"I just finished my degree in Radiological Technology from a community college in Fort Morgan. It's literally in the smallest freaking town in Colorado, pretty isolated." Santana said, "We literally had a Wal-Mart and a Burger King."

_It was amazing how she didn't remember me at all. I swear this is the girl._

I look across the table to see Quinn giving me the "I told you" look. _This wasn't over. I swear I will make Santana Lopez remember who I am. She has to, she just has to.  
_

"So, Santana… do you have a boyfriend?" Quinn asked.

"Uh. No. Negative. Absolutely not my… style?" She cocks her head to the side.

"Oh, so you play on our team." Quinn smirked.

"You could say that… You guys have a team?" Santana finishes her drink and looks at Quinn with a uncertain face.

"Not like a legit team. It's more of a term? Like 'You play for the straight team or the gay team' and obviously... I'm gay?"

"Bisexuals don't get their own team?" I asked Quinn, trying not to laugh.

"You're not bisexual, Brittany, so no…" Quinn deadpanned.

"Well Team Gay is where I'm at." Santana said holding up her empty glass.

"So is everyone else at this table." Quinn smiled.

Santana shifted uncomfortably in her seat before looking at me.

"She's… embarrassing like that…" I mentioned.

"It's fine… want to dance?" Santana whispers in my direction and I just nod.

**XXXXXXXXX**

I felt my back slam into the wall as Santana's lips attached to mine. _Seriously, this was what I was missing for the past two years? _My hands roamed all over her body; her shoulders, her chest, her extremely hot abs, her hips. This girl was intoxicating, even more so now than she was before.

I let out a soft moan as her fingers slide under my shirt. Her assault on my lips continued as our tongues danced around inside my mouth.

My hands played at the hem of her shirt, tugging on it gently. I placed my palms flat against her taut abs as I caressed her stomach. Her lips reattached to mine as my hand continued gliding over her skin. I stopped just as my hand slid over a bump right below her ribs. I pulled away from the kiss and breathed out heavily.

There's a scar on her ribs, exactly like the one on mine. _This isn't just something that happens to everyone.  
_

"Where did you get this?" I whispered towards the small Latina. My fingers slid over the scar again before stopping over the top of it.

"I don't know." Santana replies, "My sister said I was in an accident two years ago. I don't really remember anything from the year previous to it. I just kind of accepted that." Santana grabs my arm and pulls my hand out from beneath her shirt.

"We should get back to Quinn," I mentioned, feeling slightly invading.

"Okay," Santana agrees, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the hallway. We made our way back to the table to find Quinn texting.

"Where'd you two run off to?" Quinn questions.

"Bathroom." Santana and I replied at the same time. Quinn looks at us suspiciously before returning her attention to her cell phone.

"I've got an appointment tomorrow morning, guys. Would you mind if we called it a night?" Quinn asks, throwing her phone in her purse.

Santana just nods and I shrug. I didn't really want it to be the end of the night because I was seriously SO close to finding a way to make Santana remember me.

"All right then, come on." Quinn motions for us to get up and leads us towards the exit of the club. Santana's walking directly next to me, her arm slightly bumping into mine.

She smiles in my direction and looks up at me with sparkling eyes.

"Will I get to see you again?" She asks me.

"That depends… Do you want to see me again?" I really never liked answering a question with a question; but I did and I'm not too sure why. Maybe I wanted _her_to admit she wants to see me again.

"If you want to," She instantly replies, "I mean… I want to see you again. You're really awesome and I don't know… There's just something about you, Brittany; I just can't put my finger on it, yet."

_If only you knew._

* * *

**_I hope it's not as long of a wait next time. I'm trying to get new chapters for On The Field AND Letters From A Stranger up as well. It proves hard when you're so busy. Hooray college students with jobs.  
_**

**__Also, if you follow my sister's (Estate Of Mind) stories, she told me to tell you that she apologizes; but it will be awhile before she can update. She just joined a band and on top of college, work, and that; she's all tuckered out. She's texting me right now, telling me to write this.**

anyway, let me know what you think; and if you haven't, check out my other stories :D  



End file.
